


Recovery

by ACometAppears



Series: Who The Hell Is Bucky? [5]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Language, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Mentions of Violence, PTSD, Suicidal Thoughts, mentions of torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-05
Updated: 2014-05-05
Packaged: 2018-01-22 02:58:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1573580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ACometAppears/pseuds/ACometAppears
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky turned up at Steve’s door four or five months ago, and though it hasn’t been easy, he’s been slowly getting better, with Steve’s help. But he’s still recovering - still discovering who he is - and part of that is Steve taking him to see Tony Stark about some improvements to his arm.</p><p>Fifth part of the 'Who The Hell Is Bucky?' series (but also readable as a stand-alone fic).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Recovery

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for all your support for this series - really, you've all been incredible!! This will be the last one in the series, although I had an idea for an addition that could be made somewhere in the middle of the series (before Bucky turns up at Steve's apartment), so that might materialise at some point in the future. Thanks for reading!!
> 
> Edit: I lied. There's more. There's always more. Cheers!!

It’s been a year since the Winter Soldier saved Captain America from a river; four or five months since Bucky Barnes showed up at Steve Rogers’ door, complete with flattened affect, a confused sense of identity, and nightmares which kept them awake every night for many, many weeks.

Steve can speak German, and French. He knows a few words in Russian, too – enough to understand Bucky when he wakes up in the middle of the night babbling, and asking where he is, and _where’s Captain America? Where’s the target – no, where – where is Steve?_

Steve sleeps beside him, and when Bucky wakes up sweating and screaming, he tells him he’s there; lets Bucky know he’s safe, in Russian. That always seems to bring Bucky back from the brink: he looks at Steve in confusion, realising that it’s not right that he should be speaking Russian. _You can barely even get a word out in English_ , he thinks.

“… Sorry,” He apologises, reaching for the glass of water Steve’s brought him.  
“Don’t mention it,” Steve tells him and, though weary, his smile is genuine and thankful. _Takes less and less each time, for him to come around._

Within a few weeks, Bucky’s nightmares stay confined to his sleep: he no longer asks after Steve, or thinks he’s talking to his superiors, or – _God, no_ – to his targets. That’s what gets Steve the most: the fact he can remember what he did, even when his body wasn’t his own. His mind clearly dwells on the targets, and the kills, even though they weren’t his choice; even though he was forced, with no autonomy, or freedom.

 _If anyone deserves freedom_ , Steve thinks, _it’s Bucky_. And, slowly but surely, as the nightmares fade away and his daytime episodes dwindle to one a day, then one every three days, then once a week, if it’s a good week … He finally gets his freedom.

Sure, he relies on Steve a whole bunch: Steve pays for everything, he gives Bucky money to buy food, and clothes – but he’s free, in as much as if he wanted to leave, Steve would pay for that, too. He’s told him countless times – _say the word, Buck, you can go, I’ll deal with the money, don’t feel like you have to stay_ – but Bucky always punches him on the arm, and says,  
“You know what I’m gonna say, don’t you?”  
“… Til the end of the line?” Steve asks, hopefully.  
“Til the end of the line,” Bucky confirms, not for the first time, with a small smile. Steve smiles back: he’s glad of Bucky. Gladder than he can ever express – he’s no wordsmith, but even if he was, there wouldn’t be any combination of words that would describe how happy he is to have Bucky back, in any state.

At first, Sergeant Barnes was wary about being Bucky – but he learned to accept it, once he saw how happy it made Steve; he grew to like it, because _Bucky_ was synonymous with acceptance, and loyalty, and _love_. As well as that, it seems like every time Steve calls him Bucky, he remembers something he thought he’d lost forever: kicking the ass of some punk beating Steve up behind a movie theatre; Steve waving his thanks to him for taking out some HYDRA goon with his sniper rifle; little Steve Rogers hurling on the cyclone at Coney Island. Ha, ha.

It doesn’t matter who he is – sure, they call him Bucky, and he’s happy with that – because _what_ he truly is, is _home_. And that’s somewhere he never thought he’d see again – someone he’s been forced to forget many, many times.

When times get tough, and he thinks he’s letting go – thinks he’s slipping away – he recites a mantra of all the things he’s happy for; all the things about Steve that he missed without even knowing it, and that he has delighted in rediscovering.

_He’s kind. He’s gentle. He stays with you – in the night when you’re sick, in the daytime when you’re lonely – he has meetings over the phone so he doesn’t have to leave you, but he gives you space to go out by yourself – he does that little smile when you’ve said you like something about him, he does that little blush when you mention how great his body is, he shakes his head when you say you always liked it anyway even when he was a scrawny little punk … Steve is saving you,_ he thinks. _Over these last few months, Steve brought you back to life. He owes you his life after you saved him from the river, sure – but you owe him yours, too._

“I need to go to Stark tower today – Tony wants to set up a meeting with the other Avengers. I think he’s trying to get us to move in or something,” Steve says, one morning.

Bucky frowns, poking at his cereal with his spoon, and staring at it thoughtfully. People have phones they can carry around in their pockets, nowadays. _Hell, the guy flies around in a suit made of metal – surely he can just pick up the damn phone?_ Bucky realises he’s probably being overprotective. Or jealous. _At least he can take off his metal armour._

As if he’s read his mind, Steve tells him, “I tried to get him to do it over the phone like usual, but … I guess Tony just likes to see us in person,”  
“And that has to be at his fancy tower? … Guy’s got an ego the size of Manhattan,” Bucky snorts. Steve nods, conceding the point, and taking a bite of toast. They don’t always eat breakfast – but if they do, they do it together. Just like everything else.

“… I’m not forcing you to come, but – you’re invited,” Steve tells him tentatively.

Bucky swallows his latest mouthful of breakfast, staring at Steve blankly. He doesn’t blink, or move, as he sees Steve stare at him expectantly.

“… He invited me to his tower?” Bucky asks.  
“Well, I – I asked if I could bring you along,” Steve admits.  
“Why?”  
“I thought you might like to see people – people other than me,”  
“What’s wrong with _you_?” Bucky asks defensively.  
“I guess it might be good for you to hang out with someone who isn’t over ninety?” Steve suggests.  
“You’re right. You are getting on,” Bucky tells him, with a sly smile.  
“So are you!”  
“Shut up, jerk,”

Their usual back-and-forth makes Bucky’s heart swell – and isn’t that something? Not only does he know he has a heart, but he can feel it sing; feel it growing, and thawing out, almost to completion.

“So?”  
“So what?” Bucky asks, fully aware of what he’s being asked.  
“You gonna come, or not?” Steve asks, rolling his eyes.  
“What, to the _Avengers tower_?” He asks sardonically. The tower has gotten that nickname, now that it’s widely known that it’s where Earth’s mightiest heroes hang out together. Steve wasn’t kidding about Stark trying to get them to move in, there – he even offered Steve his own floor. “… Steve, I don’t think it’s the place for me,” He tries to convince his old friend.  
“Why not?” Steve asks defiantly.  
“I don’t exactly come under the banner of _Earth’s mightiest heroes_ ,” Bucky points out.  
“Sure you do!”  
“Seriously?” Buck asks incredulously. “I mean, for one, I tried to kill three of you guys,” He reasons.  
“You didn’t mean it,” Steve points out. Bucky scoffs, setting down his spoon. _It’s like talking to a brick wall_. He’s going to tell Steve to forget it, _I wanna work out today anyway – like every day_ , but then he feels Steve take his flesh hand, and he has to look up, as Steve’s thumb brushes over his scarred knuckles.

“Hey – look at me,” He tells Bucky gently. Bucky sighs, but does so – Steve looks so earnest, and sincere, that it’s hard to look away. His eyes are magnetic, as he explains:  
“You know Tony has those anxiety problems – he doesn’t tell anyone. I only found out by accident,” He confides in Bucky, who nods. “Bruce is – well, he’s one hell of a guy, but he’s got a temper,” Bucky snorts at that, and Steve smiles slightly. “Thor’s larger than life, but he’s not always here. I’m a pensioner who was an icicle for decades,” He points out self-deprecatingly. Bucky smiles, though underneath, he always feels very uncomfortable when he imagines Steve frozen for all that time. _At least I got to get out, every once in a while – to walk around, and see time passing, and run and work and breathe-_

“Sam still thinks about Riley almost every day, he says. And Natasha used to work for the Russians, too,” Steve points out. Bucky looks down at the table, and gulps – his mouth is suddenly dry. He nods all the same. “… There’s no reason you can’t at least visit. I’m not handing you an application form here, Buck,” He reminds him. He never stops stroking Bucky’s knuckles – it calms his old friend down, to be touched; especially in an area that, previously, had only known violence and hurt.

“You guys have an application form?” He asks, tone tongue-in-cheek, though it’s obvious he still very much has his doubts. But Steve smiles – he knows he’s won this one.  
“You gonna come or not, punk?”

Bucky sighs.

“Fine,” He replies, sounding deliberately put-upon, and withdrawing his hand to pick up his spoon, and scoop up the last few mouthfuls of cereal. His appetite is much better, now – he can keep his food down – Steve feels a delightful sense of satisfaction and contentment wash over him, as he watches Bucky eat.

He finishes his breakfast, and goes away to wash, calling back:  
“I’m not wearing a stupid costume, though,”  
“I’m not gonna wear one either!” Steve tells him – though he doesn’t think his Captain America suit is stupid, he remembers that Bucky always disliked it, and that whole persona. Of _course_ he was gonna call it stupid.  
“Everything you own is a stupid costume, old man,” Bucky calls back, sniggering to himself.  
“Hey!”

-

The subway is fairly crowded. It isn’t the first time Bucky has been around people – he’s been on the subway before with Steve there to support him, as they’d visited their old haunts, and all the typical tourist shit, in the present, comparing it to the past. They’d also been shopping for new clothes that would fit over his arm easily, or could be cut to do so: Bucky could almost forget the people who’d stared and looked horrified at his appearance, when he remembered Steve staring them down, and saying stuff like, _would you show some respect? Sergeant Barnes is an American hero. You should be thanking him_. All of them backed off, when they heard that – many of them recognised Steve as Captain America, too. No one recognised Bucky as the Winter Soldier: without his costume, with his arm covered, and with his hair tied back, he was like a different person.

He doesn’t want to cut his hair, yet. He doesn’t feel ready to. He’s content with tying it back.

Bucky doesn’t believe what Steve said is true – but hearing Steve say it made pins prick behind his eyes; the memory makes him smile, even when he thinks what Steve had said was as far from the truth as it’s possible to get.

Bucky stands close to Steve, reaching up to hold the overhead rail, as the carriage rocks back and forth; the lights flicker on and off, like they always do. Their light hits the metal of Bucky’s hand, and makes it glint and shine, attracting the eyes of several of their fellow passengers. A little girl tugs on her Mom’s sleeve, and points up at it. The woman follows her daughter’s gaze.

The little girl asks, “What’s wrong with that man?”

Mortified, the woman gapes, trying to find an answer; she sends an apologetic look Bucky’s way. He’s frozen solid, his eyes staring at some point beside her head, unblinking –

_What’s wrong with you, soldier?_

_He’s erratic, unpredictable_

_He’s been out too long-_

“There’s nothing wrong with him, ma’am,” Steve informs the woman, and smiles at the little girl, trying to remain friendly. She hides behind her Mom’s leg.

“Hey, aren’t you – I’m sorry, are you Captain America?” The woman asks, gaping.  
“That’s right, ma’am,” Steve tells her, and Bucky’s eyes regain their focus, moving to watch him give her his thousand-watt smile – the one Bucky loves, cause it means everything’s okay, _I’m okay, you’re okay, you’re safe, it’s fine-_

It’s the same one he uses to comfort the people he saves; a toned-up version of the softer smile he uses to comfort Bucky, when he wakes up screaming and sick, sweating and crying, unaware of where he is, _who_ he is – when Steve is the only thing he recognises; the one constant.

“I’m so sorry, Cap,” She apologises again, talking only to Steve. She turns to Bucky, and mumbles another apology.  
“That’s okay,” He assures her, though Bucky can see he wishes this whole thing never happened – that this kind of thing wouldn’t keep happening. Steve addresses the daughter next. “This is my friend, Bucky. He’s got a really cool metal arm,” He tells her, the modern language sounding a little stilted coming from him. She peeks out from behind her Mom’s leg for a moment, and smiles shyly at Steve. Her gaze drifts to Bucky, who isn’t quite smiling.

He manages a tight smile; it’s not much, and it’s definitely nothing like as good as Steve’s, but it sets them at ease. They get off moments later, leaving Steve and Bucky in one another’s company again, surrounded by commuters who don’t care about them; didn’t hear the exchange, due to the music coming from their earphones.

“Thanks,” Bucky murmurs – the only reason Steve can hear it over the sound of the roaring of the wind, and the screeching of metal that always makes Bucky flinch, is because he’s so close.  
“It’s not a problem,”

_It is _, Bucky thinks. _You already feed me, buy me clothes, take me places – I should at least be able to stick up for myself, but I can’t. I freeze up, and I stand there like a fucking idiot. I’m this gigantic burden and you’re so good and important and worthy, and you don’t deserve to be carrying around a dead weight like me all the time, but you have to anyway. What part of that isn’t a problem?___

But he doesn’t say it – because every time he thinks that, and says it out load, the argument always ends with Steve saying,

_Because you’re my friend. Because I’m with you til the end of the line._

He always stops just short of the unsaid, _because I love you_.

-

The lobby of Stark tower is a bustling hive of activity: Steve knew it would be, but he winces when he lays eyes on it. He doesn’t want Bucky to panic, or freeze up like he did on the subway. As long as no one looks at them – talks to them-

“Captain Rogers,” A voice calls to Steve, as he and Bucky make their way to the elevator. Bucky’s head is tilted down, and he’s trying his best not to look around with the analytical gaze of an assassin; trying not to spot the corner he’d like to defend, or where he’d put a bomb, or a sniper, or throw a grenade-

“Agent Romanoff,” Steve greets her as cheerily as he can, with the sinking feeling he’s experiencing inside hijacking his thoughts. _The Winter Soldier fought her_ , he thinks. _The Winter Soldier tried to kill her._  
“… Sergeant Barnes,” She greets Bucky slightly more hesitantly, but with a smile all the same. When their eyes meet, there’s a moment when they see each other: truly see. Then it’s gone – they’re back to being two assassins who used to want each other dead, but work for the same cause now. _Just like old times._

She reaches out her left hand, to shake his. It’s a test. 

“… Black Widow,” He murmurs, reciting what he’s been told aloud, and taking her hand in his metal one. He grips it firmly – but not enough to cause damage. Steve holds his breath as he watches them size one another up.  
“Natasha,” She corrects him – her voice is light, though there’s an edge of warning to it.  
“… Right,” Bucky concedes, shaking his head as if to clear his memory. _Must be having a moment_ , Steve thinks. Bucky’s _moments_ are less frequent, now, but they do occur; Steve puts a hand on his shoulder, as he lets go of Romanoff’s hand. 

“You on the straight and narrow, now?” She asks – the question is serious, though there’s a hint of amusement in her voice, which sets Bucky at ease as much as he can be in the presence of a master assassin who was previously his number one target, amongst other things.  
“Narrow. Yup,” He echoes, his eyes sliding over to Steve with a smirk he tries and fails to mask.

Steve frowns slightly, but smiles all the same – _at least they’re getting along_. Natasha smiles, too: there’s a joke he’s not getting here, he feels.

“I’m on my way out. I’ll see you fellas around,” She tells them both, winking at Steve as she turns away. The two of them watch her walk away, and out of the lobby.

 _That went well_ , Steve thinks, encouraged. _Stark should be easy – if he behaves. After all, Bucky hasn’t tried to kill Tony. And Tony hasn’t tried to kill Bucky, either._ He claps Bucky on the shoulder, as they continue their journey; his old friend’s face is pensive.

 _I remember that woman_ , Bucky thinks. _She’s a brilliant fighter, and – and Russian, and I tried to kill her, yeah, but … Maybe it’s nothing._

They make their way to the elevators, and Steve presses the button. Bucky can’t help but look around: he’s scanning the room for potential threats, to Steve. He’s ready to jump in front of him at a moment’s notice … He wouldn’t be much use as a fighter, at that moment: his arm is on the fritz, after getting it wet a few times, and a minor mishap with a plug socket (damn thing was a death-trap). Sure, he’s a good fighter even with his hands tied behind his back, but he doesn’t even want to take the chance, if he’s defending Steve; if Steve is in danger.

They step into the elevator, and the doors shut; Steve presses the button for Tony's favourite personal R&D floor, and types in the code needed to authorise the journey.

The elevator music plays as they move, and Steve rolls his eyes, thinking that of course Tony would put AC/DC on in the elevator: the guy loves that damn band. But Bucky’s tapping his foot, and staring at the floor, moving gently in time with the drum beat as he loses himself in his thoughts. Suddenly, he speaks up:  
“Natalia didn’t seem too upset to see me,” He observes.  
“Natasha,” Steve corrects, “You’re right. I think she sees you as an ally,”  
“Already?” Bucky asks doubtfully. Steve shrugs.  
“They trust my judgement,” He reasons. Bucky nods, but smirks all the same.  
“Time was, you wouldn’t be able to even talk to a beautiful dame like that without having an asthma attack,” Bucky points out. Steve’s cheeks pink up, and he looks at the floor with a self-deprecating smile. “Shut up,” He mumbles. Bucky nudges him with his right arm.

The journey is over in seconds: the doors open out onto a wide-open space, packed full of work benches, each strewn with pieces of metal and machinery; tools and circuit boards. _Stark might be a billionaire, but he needs to hire a maid_ , Steve thinks to himself, as he and Bucky step out of the elevator.

He glances over at Bucky, and sees he’s gaping; he’s looking all around in disbelief. Then he sees Tony: he’s leaning over some piece of machinery, fiddling with it with a look of utter concentration on his face.

Bucky stops, and grabs Steve’s arm, stopping him where he stands. Steve looks at him questioningly, and sees as he frowns, his mouth moving but no words coming out.

_Tony Stark. Anthony Stark. Son of-_

_Maria, and Howard Stark. These are your targets, soldier. No trace._

“What’s wrong?”

He pries his eyes away from the man working at the bench, and looks at Steve: his eyes are wide, and he looks small; vulnerable, and terrified.  
“I … Howard Stark,” He mutters.  
“Yeah – that’s Tony’s dad,” Steve explains slowly.  
“I know – I know, I-” He bites his lip for a moment. Thankfully, Stark hasn’t noticed them yet. “I can’t do this – I can’t-”  
“Why not?” Steve asks, worried now.  
“I think I hurt them – I think I hurt his parents. I think I – I think-”  
“They died in a car accident,” Steve is whispering now, trying to reassure his friend, with a hand on the back of his neck. “You were nothing to do with it,”  
“Wasn’t I?” Bucky asks, his voice tiny and doubtful.  
“… No, you weren’t. It wasn’t your fault,” Steve replies, sounding sure. He isn’t sure that the _Winter Soldier_ wasn’t involved, but, well … Even if he had cut the break lines, it wasn’t Bucky’s idea, was it? … It wasn’t _Bucky’s_ fault. None of it was. 

“… Right. Okay – yeah,” Bucky nods, sniffing, and pausing for a moment, before looking back at Stark. He straightens up, and seconds later, it’s as if the moment never happened. “I’m ready,” He tells Steve, who smiles encouragingly. Tony does look an awful lot like his dad, but – well, if Bucky can put it out of his mind, then that’s good enough for him. _We’re making real progress, now_ , he thinks. _He’s not completely okay, but he’s much better now. Better than I could have ever hoped_. 

“Tony?” Steve calls, keeping his voice light and cheerful as he strides forwards, Bucky trailing slightly behind him – he’s reminded of the little girl on the subway, clinging to her mother for safety, and he feels a wave of sadness come over him. _Remember when Bucky used to introduce you to girls? Remember when he was the confident one?_

He tells himself it’s just because he’s the one who knows Tony – Bucky wants him to go first so they can catch up. _Yeah – that’s what it’ll be._

“Cap,” Tony says, without looking up. Steve is suddenly afraid that he knew they were there the whole time; from that distance, though, he hoped he couldn’t see Bucky’s panic – or worse, hear what he thought he did to Tony’s parents.

Steve rolls his eyes – Stark always was a rude son of a gun.  
“Tony, meet Bucky Barnes. Bucky – Tony Stark,”

Tony finally looks up, scanning the room until he lays eyes on Bucky. He looks him up and down, and gives one of those generic pretending-to-be-interested smiles that Bucky’s seen him do on the cover of magazines, and on talk shows, in the time that he’s been at Steve’s apartment. He knows what to expect.

And, from the way that both Tony and Nat didn’t immediately attack him or hold him to account for everything he’s done, he’s sure that Steve’s told them what to expect – told them that if they start yelling at him, start hurting him like he deserves to be hurt, he’ll have one of the _turns_ Steve sometimes has to deal with. Bucky doesn’t enjoy them, either – so it’s probably for the best that Steve’s fellow Avengers tiptoe around him like he’s fragile. Even if he _hates_ it.

Even if he’s really a cybernetic mass-murderer.

“Hi, how are ya – Tony Stark,” The billionaire says, reaching out with his left hand, to shake. Bucky stares down at the hand – _they all go for the left. They all know what’s there. They all want to see it. They think I’m a freak._

But he reaches out all the same. _You probably took this guy’s parents away_ , he thinks. _You at least owe him this_. He reaches out with his metal hand, and takes Stark’s hand.

The billionaire’s eyes light up: he looks down at the limb, and a look of child-like wonderment spreads across his features. He reaches for Bucky’s sleeve, and pushes it up slightly. The change in expression lets Bucky know that now, he’s no longer seeing the billionaire, but the _genius_ with the technical mind, unrivalled by any of his competitors. 

_The guy works with machines_ , he thinks to himself cynically. _You’re a machine. You’ll get on like a house on fire._

But the way Steve steps up behind him, placing a careful hand on his right shoulder to let him know he’s there, chases that thought away; reminds him of the truth he learned reading those files on his experiences with HYDRA, for better or for worse. _I'm not a machine. Steve doesn’t think I’m a machine – Steve wants to protect me._

“Tony,” Steve addresses the genius, a note of warning in his voice; Bucky stares dumbly down, and tries not to flinch as his arm is examined with a strange enthusiasm, like it’s some tropical bird Stark’s never seen before. He’s not sure what to make of the analysis: whether he should feel flattered, or offended. The only opinion he’s sure of in this situation is that Steve will back him up – Steve will help protect him, or even _stop_ him, if things go south.

Well … That’s not his _only_ thought – additionally, he thinks to himself, _this is a part of me, yeah – but it’s also a weapon that could have killed Stark’s parents. He has no business looking at it like that._

“Amazing – they came up with this years ago?” Tony asks, without preamble. Bucky just nods once – he can feel Steve behind him, wary and on-edge. “When?” Stark presses.

Bucky opens his mouth to reply, but frowns. _When_ did _they give this thing to me?_  
“… I – I can’t really say,” He feels like he’s apologising.  
“But decades ago, right?” Stark asks, still not looking Bucky in the eye; he’s touching the metal fingers now, watching how they articulate. Bucky can’t really feel the touch, but his phantom limb feels as if it’s being tickled. It’s not a completely awful sensation, as those kind of sensations go.  
“… Yeah,” Bucky replies, guarded like he was at first when he turned up on Steve’s doorstep, all that time ago.  
“They must’ve improved it – but even with the upgrades-” Stark shakes his head, and gives a low whistle. “When was the last time they changed it out?” 

Bucky frowns again, trying to remember. Steve’s hand tightens on his shoulder: he knows thinking back is hard for Bucky; painful, even. He glares at Tony for bringing up the past, but is ignored.

“… Last mission. 2008,”  
“So you’re still using a hunk of junk from the dark ages?” Stark asks doubtfully, one eyebrow raised.

Bucky pauses, looking over his shoulder at Steve, unsure how to reply. But before things get too awkward, Stark claps him on his left shoulder, and says,  
“How about I get working on some upgrades for Robocop over here, and you get working on organising the others, eh, Rogers?”

Steve sighs, but nods all the same, as Stark walks away from them, already ferreting around on one of his workbenches for some tool or other. Bucky looks at Steve, confused about what’s going on, but Steve just shrugs – though he smiles as he does it. “Robocop?” Bucky mouths at him. Another shrug.

“I’m a busy man, Sergeant. You gonna come over here and tell me what needs changing about that thing or what?” Stark calls, pushing a load of screws and random pieces of circuitry to the side of his bench with abandon, and pulling up a holographic screen, before looking at Bucky expectantly.

Bucky looks to Steve again – he feels partly as if he’s asking for permission, and partly for reassurance that Stark is safe; he won’t start trying to program his mind, as well as his arm, should he get the chance. _He must have an agenda_ , Bucky thinks. _No one ever helps me without an agenda – no one but Steve, anyway._

Steve nods once, the look in his eye sincere despite his obvious concerted effort to be tolerant of Stark’s attitude. _He’s safe, Buck_.

So Bucky makes his way to the area where Tony is already pulling up images of the arm on his holographic computer: images taken from security footage, and sparse photographs – and from the files Bucky’s seen in Steve’s apartment. The ones that are painful to even look at.

“So?” Stark asks, staring at Bucky expectantly. He’s looking him in the eye, now. Bucky wonders if he can see his dark, fucked-up insides with a stare that intense. _Maybe he really just can’t wait to get working on my arm. You can’t fault his enthusiasm._

“Um …” Bucky hums, looking down at the limb thoughtfully – and suddenly, every adaptation he’d like made to it completely deserts him. He’s lost for words.  
“Why don’t you take your jacket off, Buck?” Steve asks helpfully.  
“Aren’t you supposed to be doing something else, old man?” Bucky asks sardonically – though he takes the jacket off, all the same. The black t-shirt underneath has had the left sleeve removed, to fit over the prosthesis. The bright, shining red star can be seen. Steve’s expression falters slightly, every single time he sees it.

_Like a brand. Like he was a possession – livestock._

“Uh – well …” Steve blushes slightly. Bucky looks between him, and Stark, who is currently looking anywhere but his face – trying to look way too casual.

_A set-up. Steve brought him here for this._

“You’re a terrible liar,” Bucky tells him, rolling his eyes. “Why didn’t you just tell me?”  
“I didn’t think you’d agree – but you’re having problems, and you need them solved,” Bucky scoffs, but Steve continues: “… And I fooled you, didn’t I?”  
“Are you two gonna continue to have your little domestic? Should I leave?” Stark asks. He receives a pair of withering looks. “Actually, Cap, Pepper had some questions about your hectic schedule. You know getting everyone in one place at one time is a nightmare,” He continues.  
“… Right,” Steve replies, though he doesn’t move – he looks between Bucky and Tony, and bites his lip, clearly hesitant. Bucky rolls his eyes, again. 

“Get outta here, old man, before I break your hip,” He tells him sarcastically.  
“Not if I break yours first, punk,” Steve tells him, smirking – but he turns around to leave, all the same.

Stark watches him go with a thoughtful gaze for a few seconds – as soon as the door shuts behind him, he says:  
“So what’s it like living with Captain America? Is it true he sings the national anthem in the shower?”

Bucky smirks, and takes a seat beside Stark.  
“Only on the weekends,”  
“Of course,” Stark replies, turning back to his holographic screen, and sitting down, too. “So – when he got in contact, he said this thing doesn’t do well with water,” He says, indicating the arm.  
“… Yeah. When I jumped into the river after Steve …” His voice trails off.  
“Thanks for that, by the way,” Stark tells him, trying to sound offhand – but the soldier can hear the trace of emotion buried deep in that statement. “Would be a nightmare to find someone else to hold that shield,”

Bucky huffs out a laugh at that, “Yeah. As if anyone else could be Captain America,” He replies, looking down. He feels a sense of bitterness take him over for just a second or two – but he can’t remember why, or the reason for it. _Something the old Bucky would know_ , he guesses.

Stark stares at him for a moment, and bows his head in a nod.  
“Yeah. I don’t know anyone else who’s dumb enough to stick with that outfit for seventy years,” He jokes.  
“I never liked it, either,” Bucky tells him, before looking back down at his arm, and frowning – “The water – well, that’s just something that can’t be fixed, right? I mean, it’s metal, it’s got circuits-”  
“Not so,” Stark tells him, bringing up a couple of clips of himself from the corner of the screen. Bucky watches as Iron Man emerges from the Hudson, suit fully functional despite being at the bottom of the river for a while. “I do underwater repairs to the power lines for this place all the time. Don’t even get any rust,”  
“How the hell …?” Bucky asks under his breath, confused but cautiously optimistic, he finds.  
“Leave that to me. I’m the genius here – what do you say? Want me to make one you can get wet?”  
“… Well, it would make it easier to shower … And go out in the rain …” Bucky admits.  
“Great. And – do you mind?” Tony asks, reaching for the arm. Bucky holds it out for him.

He grabs it, trying to lift it up; finding that it’s extremely heavy, he sets it down again. Bucky smirks, slightly amused.  
“Damn, that’s heavy – how do you even do anything? Must be exhausting,” He asks, folding his arms, and looking slightly impressed.  
“I do a lot of lifting,” Bucky replies sarcastically – and that’s how he knows he’s starting to feel a little more relaxed around Tony Stark. It’s almost been a whole minute since he last thought about the fact that he might have killed this guy’s parents. “Anyway, isn’t a whole suit heavier than this?”  
“No way – I’d never get off the ground. It’s way lighter,”  
“So why doesn’t it just get crushed like a tin can when you’re hit?” Buck asks, frowning.

Tony huffs out a laugh. “Genius, remember? So I can make it lighter-”  
“But it’s still gotta be strong. And durable. For – for fighting,” Bucky insists, though he trips over his words a little. What he really meant was, _for Steve. So I can protect Steve. He can protect himself, but what if I need to protect him, too? What good am I if I can’t even do that?_  
“You got it,” Tony says casually, pulling up some more images from his file – it’s the specs for his arm. The original ones, for the first prosthesis he ever got.  
“Thought I’d go back to basics. There anything else?” He asks.  
“… Natasha … She has those things – with the electrocution-” Bucky tries to describe them, but that kind of thing isn’t really in his lexicon. He’s more used to grenades, and RPGs, and sniper-riles than damn electrocution bracelets.

Stark grins, “Yeah. Those things have gotten us out of a whole bunch of scrapes,”  
“Yeah, well – they’ve fucked up something in my arm,” Bucky replies, unable to think of a more eloquent way to put it, “It glitches, cause of the water damage, and those things – it stops moving sometimes, and it just becomes this _dead weight_ ,”  
“Right. Can you take it off?” Stark asks.

Bucky looks up at him, and blinks; his mind goes blank for a moment, short-circuiting.

_They used to take it off me when I’d been bad. They took it off when I – when I …_

_… I escaped, once. I made it all the way to Pennsylvania from New York, before they found me, and they took it – they took it, then – then the chair, and the re-education –the stasis-chamber – the fridge-_

He suddenly rubs his forehead, squeezing his eyes shut. He hopes it looks like he’s just tired. _Where’s Steve? Where did Steve go? … Did I-?_

“Whoa, easy tiger-” Stark says, though his voice is like static; distorted, and a million miles away. He needs to get back – be back in the room, and the now, and _it’s over, Buck, you’re safe-_

“… Sorry,” He says, rubbing his eyes yet again. He tucks a strand of hair behind his ear – he’s glad it’s up and out of the way, or he’d look even more dishevelled right now – and blinks, before refocussing on Tony.  
“You’re not gonna turn into a crazy Russian ninja, are you?” Tony asks warily. Bucky doesn’t think that was an attempt at humour.  
“No,” He answers, evening out his breathing. _When did his breath get so short?_  
“Then no sweat,”  
“… They used to take it off sometimes, yeah,”  
“Okay. So it can be done, then,” Tony confirms nonchalantly, ignoring the subtext of Bucky’s last sentence. Clearly, he thinks it’s none of his business. _He’s damn right_ , Bucky thinks.  
“… You good for me to have a look inside of that thing, see what I’m working with?”  
“Uh … Yeah, but-” Bucky curses himself inwardly. _Why don’t I know more about this? Why don’t I have the words to describe it?_ “… There’s nerve endings, and – some experimental … _Something_. I don’t know how, but I can – I can move it when it’s not attached,”  
“Really?” Tony asks, eyebrows both raised to his hairline. He looks like a kid in a candy store. Bucky just shrugs, and nods slightly. “Show me,”

They’re there for at least an hour. Bucky expects it to hurt more than it does – they don’t remove the arm, but Tony opens it up, expertly removing panels and examining the circuitry; the wires he’ll need, and the framework he’s got to work with. Sure, he’ll be building his own from scratch – but it’s always nice to get a few suggestions. Even if they do come from a bunch of Soviet-Nazi-HYDRA-whatever-they-are scientists. Bucky has some design suggestions, too – Tony doesn’t usually like people telling him what to do, but then again, he’s not the one who’s got to wear the damn thing 24 hours a day.

He doesn’t consider this charity. When Steve called him up, inquiring about the metal arm and saying he had some of the specs in Bucky’s file, he couldn’t say no: making a suit is completely different to trying to improve an honest-to-got cybernetic arm from the dark-ages. How could he say no?

Plus, if it lead to another member of the Avengers, and another ally that would take his side and kick some ass for him someday … Well, that was a bonus.

Bucky watches Tony shut the final panel on the arm, and lets out a silent sigh of relief. Sure, he knows Stark is a genius – but even so, if he fucked up just one bit of the arm (accidentally or on purpose), it could have resulted in him losing the whole damn thing.  
“Steve gets those, too, you know,” Tony says quietly, not looking up from his work. Bucky frowns, and shifts slightly, while trying not to move the arm. “Those little _Elvis has left the building_ moments? … Yeah, sometimes it’s a bit hard being a 90 year old who spent decades frozen under the sea, I guess. But he does it a lot less now you’re here,”

Tony finally looks up, the panel completely sealed. He sits back.  
“You saying Steve’s weak?” Bucky asks, his face growing dark.  
“No. You aren’t, either – I know that cause I know what it’s like for your biggest weakness to be the thing that keeps you alive,” He comments, trying to sound casual – but Bucky knows he’s being counselled now.  
“Your heart,” He recalls. “Steve mentioned,”  
“Yup. I got it fixed, though – you’re gonna get yours fixed. I mean, I can’t grow you a new arm …”  
“But you’ll do your best,” Bucky finishes. “Got it … Thanks,”

It’s at that moment that Steve enters the room, holding the door open for Pepper; the two are laughing over something or other. Steve doesn’t seem as amused, to Bucky, as if he’d been laughing at one of _his_ jokes – or maybe he’s just jealous.

“Did I ever tell you what a dynamite gal you've got, Tony?” Steve asks, smiling at him; Bucky sees his eyes slip to the metal arm, though, and cross over his face, checking that he’s okay.  
“Everyone does,” Tony replies. “Credit where credit’s due,”  
“That wouldn’t be twelve percent credit, would it?” Pepper asks, before kissing Tony on the cheek. Bucky stands up, and takes his place beside Steve.  
“Tony’s going to build me a new arm – just like you wanted,” He tells him. Steve blushes slightly, and scratches the back of his head.  
“Sorry,” Steve says sheepishly. “I shouldn’t have lied,”  
“It wasn’t a lie – Pepper really did need you here to do all that organisation stuff that usually involves people handing me things – and you know how I feel about that,”  
“… Right,” Steve nods.  
“This is Pepper, by the way – Pepper Potts, my latest project – Bucky Barnes,” Tony introduces her to the soldier.  
“Project?” Pepper raises an eyebrow at Tony, though she extends her right hand, to shake Bucky’s hand. The wording caught him off guard, too – though he still musters a _good to meet you, ma’am_.

“Sure – but, don’t worry, I’ll try and make the Stark logo as small as possible,” Tony tells Bucky, with a more genuine smile than he was able to muster earlier. Bucky’s eyes widen a fraction, looking from Tony to Steve, and opening his mouth to protest.  
“He – is joking, aren’t you, Tony?” Pepper explains in a light voice, though she pats Tony playfully on the arm as a warning. He makes a big show of rubbing the arm, but nods, and says,  
“Sure – I’m hilarious,” He tells her. He turns to Steve and Bucky again, and tells them,  
“Okay, well – consulting hours are officially over, so you’d better get going – I need to grill Fury over some holographic camouflage he’s been hiding from me for a few months – flesh coloured, for my newest project. See you next week, Sergeant?” He asks Bucky.  
“Okay … Yeah. Yeah, sure – thanks,” Bucky replies, a happy expression gracing his face for a moment – _not only is Tony going to upgrade my arm, he’s gonna try and disguise it. No more staring on the subway._

Pepper’s smiling too, now, looking between Bucky and Tony. Bucky gets the feeling Tony doesn’t usually play well with others – sure, the guy’s ego is big, but it’s nothing Bucky hasn’t dealt with before. His girl is probably glad he’s made another friend. _Even if it is a freak_ , the malicious voice in the back of his mind whispers to him.

But he fights back, this time – _if I’m a freak, Tony’s a freak. And the rest of the Avengers are freaks – and Steve’s a freak._

_But he’s still a good man. Even if he is a punk._

As they make their way out of Stark tower, Steve questions him about how it went: well, is his main answer. He doesn’t tell Steve about the memories, or the moment he’d had when he’d begun to remember them removing his arm, leaving him defenceless as a punishment, while they reconditioned him; tortured him, twisted him back into the warped shape they needed him to be.

… He focusses on the fact that, really, he’s lucky. Above everything else, he’s got Steve back – and Steve is friends with someone who wants to help him with his arm; much more than that, there’s a whole circle of people Steve has introduced him to who are willing to work with him, maybe even forgive and befriend him.

So yeah, he’s lucky. And yeah, he’s taken beatings, and he’s been broken, and he’s wanted to end it all – but he’s been saved, by himself as much as by Steve Rogers, because under his watchful eye, and with the help of his colleagues … He’s finally starting to accept himself.

He’s Bucky Barnes, and tentatively, he thinks that – now, even though he doesn’t remember everything that’s happened to him, and he may never get those memories back – he is his own man. Sure, others moulded him – but over these past few months, the things that have shaped him have changed. He’s learned so much from the senses of humour of others, and their conversations with him, and their guidance – rather than scathing, agonising torture they’ve inflicted upon him. 

He’s not the exactly same as before – and neither should he be. Because, though Steve is the same at heart, he’s been undeniably changed – _not better, not worse, just different_ – and as times have changed, Bucky’s changed, too. They find their way to each other, whatever the case; whoever they end up being – whether it’s the star-spangled man or an avenger; a kid who protects his friend from bullies or the Winter Soldier – whoever they become, they work their way through it, and back to each other.

When he fights alongside Steve, or laughs at one of his corny jokes, or holds his hand for support when things get really bad … He smiles, eventually.

With some plans drawn up by Tony that include – at his insistence – the stars and stripes of Steve’s shield where that red star is at the moment, he knows he’s on the right track; he’s where he’s supposed to be – he’s at Steve’s side, fighting for the good guys again. Just like old times – he’s not that guy anymore, but it still feels _right_ to be here, so for the first time in a long, _long_ time, he doesn’t care.

He finally knows who he is.


End file.
